Oh, and your courage in
escaping from that dissolute rascal--that captured her. My dear,
Queensberry's Duchess is your friend. She's as desirous as I am that you
should be Polly Peachum in my 'Beggar's Opera,' and when I tell her
about to-night she'll be overjoyed. You need not fear about the future
save that it depends upon yourself. But Polly, what of the young
playwright, Lancelot Vane?"
"I don't want to hear anything about him!"
"What! Have you and he tiffed? Well, 'tis a way that true love works.
But let me tell you I've handed his play to Mr. Cibber, though much I
doubt its good fortune. Honestly, my child, though some of the lines are
good, others are sad stuff."
"I don't wish Mr. Vane any ill will, but it is no affair of mine whether
his play be good or bad."
"Mercy on me! But you told me he wanted to write in a part for you."
"If he does I won't play it. Mr. Vane is nothing to me."
"Oh, so _that_ love's flown away, has it? Was there anybody in this
world or any other so full of vagaries and vapours as Master Cupid?"
Lavinia was in a tumult of doubt and contrary inclinations. She hated to
discuss Lancelot Vane! She wanted to talk about him! She was suffering
from the most puzzling of emotions--the mingled pain and pleasure of
self-torture.
Gay neither gratified nor disappointed her. He simply remarked that it
was well she now had nothing to distract her mind and that she would be
able to devote herself entirely to her new life, and after counselling
her not to argue about terms with Huddy, he led her back to the manager,
and it was settled that she should join his travelling company.
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